


Red Bluebird

by GooseWhiskers



Series: Hey Look, Blue Soup! [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Deathclaws, Gen, Near Death, Protectiveness, Raiders, Snark, Suspense, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-11-18 23:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18128210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooseWhiskers/pseuds/GooseWhiskers
Summary: The hunt for Piper's next story takes a deadly turn when she and Nate end up trapped at the bottom of a raider den with a very big, very angry monster. The disemboweling kind. Nate faces his greatest fear, and Piper learns exactly what kind of person she's traveling with. They've got each other's backs, but this time getting out in one piece is too much to hope for.





	1. To Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I stumbled into Kendall Hospital WAY TOO EARLY in my Nate playthrough and had an all around very bad time

The fall might’ve been easy to roll off, if not for the heaps of broken concrete and scrap waiting to break it. Fireworks of pain shot through Nate’s back, rendering him immobile for several seconds where all he could see were spots of sooty light amidst a black world.

Piper managed to land on her feet, though the more graceful arrival spared no suffering. She limped over, “You okay, Blue?”

He groaned. “To be honest with you - no.”

“Why aren’t they shooting?” She asked tentatively.

The air was unsettlingly devoid of gunfire. Nate took her outstretched hand and staggered to his feet, squinting up at the rat’s nest above them. Raiders had collected all along the railings to peer down

“Maybe we’re supposed to dance. Put on an act… or something?” He mused.

She scoffed. “Oh, yeah, of course. Raiders are al _l_ about appreciating fine theatre. Real patrons of the arts.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were being facetious.”

 _Whump._ A heavy shockwave rippled beneath their feet.

Turning in unison, Nate and Piper scanned their surroundings. Once it might’ve been a generator room. _Once._ Before whatever crashed through the roof converted the entire building into a funnel of wreckage. Nate’s musket had landed clear across the cellar, well out of reach. A central portion of the floorspace was obstructed by an industrial transformer and a large rusted cage, complete with a mutilated corpse tangled decoratively between the bars. Its twisted fingers clutched a battered shotgun of questionable functionality. Past that, a ragged hole gutted the far wall - leading to a dark crumbling hallway. Discarded furniture lay strewn about.

_Whump._

And blood. A _lot_ of _blood._

_Whump._

“Did they happen to resurrect dinosaurs while I was on ice, too?” Nate hissed, stepping once toward the sound and glancing up at the bystanders.

Piper came forward alongside him. “I don’t like this…”

Caps passed between the ringleader and her neighbor above. Their gap-tooth grins were not particularly encouraging. Several raiders jostled silently for space and a better view, but none seemed inclined to lean too far over the railing. Another, trembling like some psychotic leaf, crowed with excitement and was quickly shushed.

Nate’s attention lingered on one scavver hovering in a dark corner, distinct in the black shades he wore. Unlike his companions, he didn’t smile. He was… signaling? In fact, he performed what _looked like_ old military signs for  _watch, door,_ and  _shotgun,_ followed by an imitation of devil’s horns. Nate might’ve considered the message further, but-

_Whump._

Piper’s knuckles were white against the grip of her gun.

If all other indicators hadn’t been enough to convince him of peril, Piper’s bleached look alone turned his blood to ice.

Beady eyes flashed yellow in the shadows of the provisional hallway. A saurian silhouette lurched toward the light, pausing at the fringe of the tunnel to consider them.

From the balconies of the eviscerated building, raiders jeered and stomped in a cacophony of savage excitement. The creature let out a guttural chortle. Rising on muscular hindlegs, it flexed long, scaly fingers tipped by sinister talons sharpened to a fine point.

Piper swore. Nate didn’t need an explanation. His heart sank. He’d faced a deathclaw once before, in Concord. With the help of power armor. And a machine gun. It hadn’t been nearly the size of the one facing them now and still ripped half the T-45 plates off their framework before finally going down.

The horned monstrosity roared a challenge.

Nate understood perfectly with a throb of adrenaline that having been lucky enough to kill a stunted, sickly deathclaw wasn’t going to improve his chances of survival against this well-fed, sleek-scaled goliath. His lip curled. “My ability to tolerate the amount of _bullshit_ being thrown at me on a volunteer basis is _rapidly_ deteriorating.”

It charged. The ground quaked.

“Less talking more _mo-OVING!”_ Piper spat, darting left as the deathclaw flung a cloud of debris at them. Heavy stone whirled through the air like sand. Giant, concussion-inducing sand.

 _Gun! I need a_ gun _!_ Nate thought, scrambling away to the maniacal howling of the raiders above them. If he could  _only_ get to his gun! Get to the gun. Aim the gun. Hit a moving target with a killshot before being systematically disemboweled and-. Just get the- _Get the gun it’s right there!_

 _“Look out!”_ Fear spewed acidic in Piper’s words.

 _Whoosh!_ The blow missed by a fraction of an inch.

Nate’s heart clenched. _“Easy for you to say!”_

Not a moment too soon his hands closed on the stock and he yanked the musket to his shoulder, turning and firing. The red laser blast thundered through the air like greased lightning - finding its mark in the creature’s exposed underbelly. And ricocheting off.

Nate had time to blink in shock before scaly fingers closed a vice-grip around his heel. It wrested him back across the floor, yanking his spine the way a child might a yo-yo. The deathclaw hissed, a deep throaty sound reverberating through Nate’s chest.

 _I’m going to die._ It was not shock he felt so much as a bare, surreal awareness.

Teeth bared in a fierce grimace, Nate bellowed back as he kicked hard in a feeble attempt to escape death’s grip. The air prickled with ozone. Through the pounding in his ears, he could hear gunshots from a pistol. _Piper._ The animal hardly seemed to notice. It squeezed tighter. Every tissue in his leg shrieked under the pressure.

More out of desperation than conscious thought, Nate dropped his gun and pulled the hunting knife from its sheath in his boot. He jammed the blade into his attacker’s purlicue. Red, sticky blood spurted out between blade and flesh.

 _That_ merited a response.

With a roar to shake the rafters, the deathclaw flung Nate in a vicious arc. Their arena exploded out of focus as the shockwaves from hitting hard concrete at high speed rippled through him. But he was free! _Still alive!_ Even if only for a moment.

Scrambling clumsily, Nate staggered sideways, using the wall to push off of and making a dash for the cage at the center of the room. Maybe if he could just put something between himself and the monster it would-

_Wha-whump. Wha-whump. Wha-whump._

There wasn’t enough time.

Lunging past him, the deathclaw whirled on all fours, cutting off any chance of retreat. All the air was forced from Nate’s lungs as it pounced. The beast had to weigh more than a car. Maybe two cars. With a large brahmin on top.

“I guess it’s - too late to - try and talk about - thi- _is_?” He wheezed.

Standing at full height, the deathclaw raised him for inspection as one might a shot pheasant. Keen yellow fangs, hungry eyes burning with the flames of purgatory - up close Nate could make out every malevolent detail of his foe. Rancid breath steamed across his face as the deathclaw lifted a scimitarian hand to strike. For a moment, everything happened in slow motion. Then too quickly.

It felt an  _awful_ lot like being punched.

With a sack of bricks.

All over his body.

Bone gave way to claw and Nate’s ribs splintered like thin ice. _They’re not supposed to do that._ His belly was suddenly very  _wet_ , and  _hot_ , like a bucket was being poured over him.

Piper yelled something indistinct. Nate couldn’t reach that far out; the world had grown small. Above them rang a chorus of cheers. The beast huffed through its flared nose, seeming to smile cruelly. - _Damn, my shirt’ll be ruined -_ Blood spurted from the deathclaw’s face and it flinched sharply.

Nate’s brow furrowed with distant confusion. Red pooled down its cheek, a mangled mess taking the place of one unholy eye.

“Hey, _Ugly!_ Did _that_ get your attention?”

Nate looked to his side, following the noise. Piper stood across the room with gun forward, legs apart. _Weaver._ Their eyes met briefly. Despair, desperation, calculation, _resolve_ \- he saw all of it sift through her gaze in that small piece of eternity. _What are you thinking?_ His lips contorted in a grimace. There was too much static in his brain. _I can’t breathe._

“You gonna keep me waitin’ to dance _all night_ or what!” She taunted, firing again. Keratin splintered off its curved horn as her bullet bit through.

Snout curling into a snarl, the deathclaw whirled and bellowed with deafening fury. Piper’s hellcat expression molted into horror as it paced towards her.

It discarded Nate roughly. His shoulder cracked on impact with the ground. For a split second that felt an awful lot like a lifetime, he was deprived of all senses.

When he managed to force his eyes open again, he was laying on his belly in the dirt near the cage. Pain felt distant and unreal. Something bitter and metallic was pooling around his tongue. _Bleeding... A lot. Too much…_

Spectators were throwing junk down at him, jeering with triumph. Glass shattered. Piper fired another round, retreating backward from the oncoming deathclaw - _a bull -_ fumbling for a new clip in her red coat pocket - _matador_.

 _Get moving!_ He wanted to scream. But his body was sluggish and unresponsive.

It would kill her when it reached her. Nuclear wrath fissioned inside as Nate railed against the frailty of his own body. _Not again!_ He couldn’t just _lie here and watch_ while this godforsaken wasteland took _someone else._ Not. Again!

 

* * *

 

Abandoning her attack as the creature closed in, Piper was faced with the immediate and predictable consequence of taunting a seven-hundred-pound, ten-foot-tall killing machine. Which was to say - looming evisceration in brilliant agonizing DinoVision.

Blue was a bloody heap in the rubble. She refused to consider the possibility that he might be dead. A quick survey of her surroundings and she ran for an electric panel bolted into the wall. Scrambling up wouldn’t buy much time, but she’d take what she could get.

The deathclaw rammed into the side of the central transformer rather than going around, sending a shower of sparks across the floor and causing half the lights in the entrails of the building to flicker out.

Piper’s gut twisted with fear as she fired in earnest. Each of her rounds hit their mark but made little impact. The creature kept its bony head low, protecting its vitals and pacing towards her. “Jesus, what’s this thing made of?” She hissed under her breath.

The chorus above wailed and pounded. “Kill! Her! Shred! Her! Kill! Her! Shred! Her!”

“Yeah, hell if I’m going to die _here!”_ She hollered back, although alternatives were not forthcoming. _C’mon, think! You’ve cut loose from worse jams than this!_ Think!

It closed in, jagged teeth glazed with septic slime. _Shit_.

Motion behind the oncoming deathclaw caught her eye. Piper’s chest throbbed in alarm as Nate heaved to his feet with the raw perfunction of a possessed corpse. He’d somehow wrenched the shotgun free of its previous owner. Red gritted teeth caught the half-light beneath pale eyes wide and white with frozen rage. Black hair dripped across his brow in tendrils of grime. At that moment, Blue looked more demonic than the beast between them.

One arm was bent awkwardly. Blood coated him from the elbows down. Even gripping the weapon with two hands, she wasn’t sure how Nate managed to hold it up. Let alone  _fire_ as he staggered forward. A load of buckshot splintered against the deathcaw’s back, staggering it. The recoil sent Nate to the ground.

“What are you doing!” She gawked in horror. His arm was completely blown out, ragged bone splitting the outline in half. It might not even be attached anymore.

Their foe spun with an ear-splitting roar, arms flared.

Nate roared back, propping the shotgun against his chest. A terrible savagery blazed in his eyes as the creature bore down on him.

 _“SH-OOT IT!”_ Piper cried, leaping from her perch in a thoughtless dash and loading futile bullets into the deathclaw’s back. She was much too slow. Nate disappeared from view behind its enormous bulk. It would be upon him in an instant.

A great a cloud of smoke and noise issued from the gun. The beast unleashed a garbled roar and lurched forward into a crimson shower, legs collapsing beneath a limp frame. Momentum sent it crashing over Nate. And then the world was silent.

“ _Blue._ ” Deaf with fear, Piper skidded to her knees beside them. The deathclaw’s face absorbed the entirety of the blast, leaving just a mash of bone and flesh. Dead.

Close. _Really_ close. A fraction of a second later and it would’ve been a much different story.  

She nearly laughed with relief as she struggled to shove the monster aside. “Of all the psycho stunts I’ve seen-...” Piper drifted off. Humour died on her lips as the mangled head slid off Nate’s torso. His chest compressed awkwardly into jagged rivers of butchery.  

Her face contorted. “Oh _n-o_ , Blue…” Piper reached out to touch him - hesitated.  “No-o, n-o, _na-oo…_ ”, a sharp, wavering whine distorted her voice as she knelt over his body and shook her head in impulsive denial.

He wasn’t moving. At all. Precious little of the blood coating him belonged to the monster he’d just killed. God, he was baptized in red. Dread latched serrated teeth around her heart. _You can’t go off and die like this_. _That’s no way to end a story._

And he wouldn’t. Not if she had anything to say about it. Looking up sharply, she clenched a fist and surveyed the stupefied crowd, “C’mon, let’s get some help for your new  _champion!_ He beat your crazy monster, didn’t he? You really gonna just let him _die_ after that?”

The tangle of raiders only stared, moon-eyed and confused. A few glanced at their leader. She was steely-eyed and there was no sympathy to be found in her stiff posture.

Piper’s chest felt very near to imploding on itself. _There’s still time._ As long as he was breathing. She was pretty sure the fact he was still bleeding meant his heart was thumping underneath. “Alive, you can use him!” She insisted. “A couple stimpaks and some stitches - that’s all he needs!”

Sure, not quite - but she had to sell it. And Stimpaks were rare, but a big outfit like this would definitely have the supplies ferreted away. If she was lucky, they’d decide their circuses were more important than bread.

She was not lucky.

The raider leader flicked a dismissive hand, “Bring the girl up. Leave the gut spaghetti. We can use him to feed the dogs.”

 _“He’s not dead yet!”_ , Piper challenged, lunging to her feet.

The raider scowled and turned to face the arena again with a predatory tilt.

Piper surged ahead, “He’s worth saving.” She swallowed, blood ringing in her ears, “Just give him the chance.”


	2. To Flee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious stranger in sunglasses intervenes, but his motives are far from clear.

A heavy rifle blast tore from above without warning. Piper shielded her eyes as the battered central transformer spewed a burst of hot white currents and exploded in a violent display that reverberated through her chest like thunder, leaving them in echoing darkness. At the same time a bottlecap mine detonated from the opposite side of the building in a bright flash and a shower of distorted metal.

The uproar was immediate. Vague silhouettes above darted and shrieked. Several unloaded bullets indiscriminately in a wild panic over the implication of another intruder. Their fiery salvos burst haphazardly in the dark like killer glowbugs.

She didn’t have time to wonder who fired the shot, or why. Wrenching Nate by his unbroken arm, Piper brushed a hand against his cheek briefly. It was a feeble attempt to apologize for whatever excruciating pain she must be causing if he was even remotely conscious.

She struggled vainly to drag him towards cover. Anger surged through her in helpless desperation. _God_ he didn’t look his weight! Her printing press was less cumbersome!

A firm hand wrapped around Piper’s wrist from behind. Instinctively she jerked back, lunging for her pistol. “Get you-”

“Good show, but I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you two to leave the stage now. Crowd’s liable to get a bit rowdy.” The stranger quipped, tugging her to her feet. It was male, gruff, and utterly without fear. He was holding a rifle.

She didn’t question the origin of their mysterious rescuer. Time for that would come later. When they weren’t in imminent danger of having their brains splattered across the wall. When Blue was not bleeding out from being nearly severed in half.

“I can’t carry him.” She strained, voice pitching with fear.

“Get his legs.” The stranger barked, kneeling to shovel Nate off the floor. “Through that hallway and bank left.”

She ducked through the broken concrete ahead of a hail of ricocheting bullets, sidestepping to keep the stranger in her peripheral. Just in case.

Their rescuer possessed the foresight to turn on Nate’s Pip-Boy before leading them into the utter blackness of the back room. Its bright fluorescence sent hungry shadows dancing across the wreckage. Anarchy continued to echo off the walls behind them. But at least none of the raiders seemed inclined to follow.

With breathing room established, Piper scrutinized the stranger. Nobody she knew. He was dressed like a scavver, optimistically middle-aged, and sporting opaque browline sunglasses in defiance of all reason. She was pretty sure he was wearing a wig. In the unstable light, it was difficult to be sure. Not much to go on - except that he clearly didn’t want to be recognized.

“Where are we going?” She demanded.

“There’s a back door, we’ll make a break for the garage.” He answered flatly.

“There were men on watch.”

“Those won’t be a problem.”

Piper’s brow furrowed. “You wanna tell me who you are? _”_

“I’m Grognak the Barbarian, and in this week’s episode I’m rescuing two nosy damsels from a horde of angry monkey men.”

 _“Oh,_ good. I feel better already.” She grimaced and then turned her attention on not tripping over the gore strewn across the deathclaw’s den.

Blue left a trail of woeful red dripping behind them. The thought of losing him filled her with queasiness like a bad radiation trip.  She’d grown fond of the plucky vault-dweller. Maybe more than she’d even realized up to this point. Swallowing back a wave of nausea, Piper resisted the heaviness in her gut urging her to buckle over. _He’ll be okay._ Somehow. Some way.

The back door was chained shut, but several tools had been left behind. Including a bolt cutter. Soon they’d broken out the pit and were hoofing it across the fractured street into the cover of a drooping concrete garage. She hoped to God it was uninhabited.

Nate’s wounds continued to drizzle a path back toward Kendall Hospital’s moonlit ruin. As if he and his pulse were still tied to it. “Hang in there, Blue.” She pleaded.

Their rescuer pulled to a halt against one corner of the garage, blockaded by collapsed rubble on three sides and out of immediate view. Keeling down, he propped Nate up against a concrete wall and then fiddled with the Pip-Boy, lips pursing.

“Great.” the stranger muttered under his breath. Then to Piper, “You’re not squeamish, right?”

“Tell me what to do.”

He stood. “Can you get his - what’s left of his shirt off for me.”

“Are you a doctor?” She asked, moving to follow the stranger’s instruction - who was now digging through rubble nearby hectically.

“Yeah.”

Silver-tongued delivery to be sure, but Piper knew bullshit when it hit her in the face. “No you’re not.”

Again with that bogglingly unruffled tone, “Look if you wanna to go hiking back to Diamond City to find one, be my guest.”

Beggars couldn’t be choosers. She supposed. “Just don’t _lie,_ I’m trusting you a lot with little enough to go on as it is.”

He’d left the Pip-Boy menu open. It was monitoring Blue’s vitals.

… Actually, it was blaring enough warning lights to launch itself into space.

She stared at Nate, struggling to quash her unease. Shadows cut across him in sharp ribbons which blended caustically against the sticky red of his tattered clothes. Dark maroon was still oozing out.

“Hey, when I asked you to strip him I meant - like, _now_.” The stranger pressed, returning with a weathered first-aid kit.

Chest tight, Piper peeled the shredded button-up away. “Please tell me you have a stim.”

“Oh yeah, I brought a super sampler. Stimpak, bandages, catgut, antimicrobial, even some - hey, do you know his blood type?”

“No,” she replied, quailing as her hands came back drenched and uncomfortably hot. The bile rose in her throat, “O-h _oh_ …” She’d seen plenty of wasteland brutality before. It remained unpleasant. And this time it wasn’t a nameless stranger. This was _Blue._ Only a few short hours ago he’d been teasing her about the state of her handwriting.

“Seriously?” Their rescuer jammed the stimpak syringe into Nate’s gut unceremoniously. It made a moist squelching sound.

Piper visibly tensed but didn’t look away.

“I thought you were supposed to be reporting his life story or something.” They said it mildly enough to be taken as a joke.

In the heat of the moment, with Blue’s innards spilling out into his lap, Piper couldn’t fully appreciate the humor. “Yeah, well, we hadn’t quite gotten to that _section_ yet. Soon as he wakes up I’ll be sure to get the big scoop on his medical history.” She barbed back. _He will wake up, right?_

The stranger didn’t reply, instead swabbing away at the dark puddle in Nate’s lap and then using catgut to roughly stitch as much shut as he could. Which, really, wasn’t a lot.

 _Why would you do this to yourself?_ She wondered, gaze lingering on the tattered mess of his arm. The amount of raw gumption it must have taken to pull the trigger not once, but _twice -_ knowing what it would do… Piper could barely find the nerve to stick herself with an IV. And never without flinching. Blue, just…

Their rescuer adjusted his browlines. “Look at that. Like magic.”

Thanks to the stimpak, Nate’s bleeding was already beginning to slow. But _God_ , he’d lost so much already. Piper’s fingers ribboned together anxiously. Her eyes drifted over the stranger again, and then to his kit. The medicine inside was worth a small fortune. Could they have stolen it from a caravan? Or was someone supplying him?

He seemed too… _sane_. To really be a raider. In spite of the convincing outfit. So the box must’ve been hidden there on purpose. A secret stash - which implied some sort of attachment to the area. The more she tried to puzzle him out, the harder it became to find reasonable answers.

Finally, she broke the static silence. “How d’you know who we are?”

He glanced up at her briefly, lips quirking. “A better question would be how _don’t_ I know _._ You two have been makin’ a lot of noise around the ‘Wealth. Vault-dwelling pre-war relic teams up with Diamond City’s own bonafide journalist? A couple a’ crazy kids tearin’ up pavement and sticking it to the baddies.” He nearly seemed to scoff, but otherwise his posture remained forcefully neutral. “Yeah, your reputation precedes you.”

“Well, your’s doesn’t.” She replied with a huff, “It’d be nice to know who I’m dealing with. Grognak’s more of a loincloth and axe guy, so ah - you can’t be him.”

“Fair point. Ansel Revere. Sorry for not givin’ it to you sooner, just… a lot of shooting, and stuff. Wasn’t the best time.”

“Your fake names need a little work.”

He shrugged. “I tried.”

She scowled, an argument springing to her tongue.

But he interrupted, “Look, I’m just a good Samaritan helping you out, okay?”

“And I’m grateful,” Piper admitted begrudgingly. Without ‘Ansel’, Blue would probably be dead. And her too... “But don’t think that gets you off the hook. I’ve still got pl _enty_ of questions.”

Ansel pressed a mash of bandages against Nate’s chest, covering the worst of the carnage. He then pulled a large roll of duct-tape from God knew where and motioned for Piper to help lift Nate enough to wrap the fabric into place. “Hope this stuff is waterproof.”

Several more times she tried digging into Ansel for answers. After a certain point Ansel stopped responding with anything other than ‘No comment,’ to her moderate frustration, and a while after that she finally quit asking. Wherever he came from, he was dead-set against clueing her in.

The best they could do for Nate’s shattered arm was to reposition it in roughly an arm-like shape and use a double go-around of tape and bandages to hold the soup of torn muscle and bone in place.

“Good as new.” Ansel insisted, leaning back to admire the handiwork.

Piper grimaced.

“Well, good as… gently used second-hand.”

Nate coughed violently and the bandages around his arm darkened.

“He’s in one piece and his guts aren’t falling out anymore.” Ansel amended dryly.

“Blue? Can you hear me?” Piper pressed, a throb of nerves bubbling in the words. When he didn’t respond, she reached for his hand. It was cold.

“Don’t expect him to come around for a while. Near-death tends to take a lot out of people, in my experience.” Ansel had busied himself with stuffing a rusted can full of paper and twigs, “One of us should probably hit the main road, see if we can flag down a caravan with a vet on board.”

She stared down at Nate’s pallid fingers. Either way, she’d have no choice but to leave Blue’s fate in Ansel’s hands. Letting him out of her sight meant incurring a measure of trust he hadn’t earned. But she had to believe that whatever else he was after, the man wanted Nate  _alive_.

“I’ll go.” Piper decided firmly. Ansel was demonstrably better equipped to keep Blue breathing in the meantime, however long it took to find help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ansel is a play on the name Ainsel, meaning "my own self." It's notable as a name to offer to fairies to prevent mischief makers from having power over you. xD Revere is a nod to the statue of Paul Revere outside Old North Church!


	3. To Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate wakes up in a panic, but it's not himself he's worried about. An unexpected ally makes an impression.

Smells came back first. Mold and decay… and burning trash. There was sound, too. A repetitive metallic crackling that bounced in his ears like sparks. It was determined to drag him back to consciousness.

Then Nate remembered the rest. _Piper!_ He lurched forward. Tried to. A shockwave of pain erupted through his gut like a gunshot and Nate expelled a gurgling hiss.

“Oh hey, there ‘e is.” An unknown voice deadpanned, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Wild-eyed, Nate searched the blurry landscape. He could make out only the faintest silhouette. No gun within reach, not that he would be able to _grab it_. Panic rose up like bile, and blood was bitter on his tongue. It was cold out. _Everything_ hurt. He writhed with feeble desperation.

“Look, you’re not in danger. The reporter’s fine. You will be, too - as long as you don’t ruin all my hard work by fidgeting too much.” The stranger sounded entirely calm, a bewildering contrast to the devastation still fresh in Nate’s mind.

They moved into Nate’s line of sight. He scrutinized them with blatant hostility. Male. Average build, relaxed but alert. Deliberately non-threatening. Almost like they knew better. They were wearing army fatigues - no branch tape - and sunglasses…? That was familiar, somehow. Nate was certain he’d seen this stranger before.

“For a minute there I wasn’t sure you’d wake up.” They continued optimistically, smiling a little and running a hand over their bald head. “I’d offer you something to drink, b- _ut_ I suspect it’d just spill back out between your ribs. Which are definitely _broken,_ by the way. Breathe slow.”

Nate’s brows furrowed, the only body part he seemed to have any control over. _“_ P- _hgh-i-?”_ He mangled out, and then succumbed to a fit of coughing that tilted him lopsided. The pain was immense and utterly mind-bending. Sticky, metallic drool leaked from the corner of his mouth. The world went dark for a moment.

“Shit.” The stranger hissed, rushing to prop Nate back up, “You OK? Deep breaths.”

 _Where’s Piper._ If she was here, if she was safe, she ought to be scolding him by now. _Please no. No, no._

Vaguely, through blaring DinoVision agony, he realized the only way of knowing was through his mysterious attendee. Answers meant questions. And questions meant needing to talk. Therefore: breathing. _One step at time._ Unable to swallow, Nate let the stream of bloody saliva spill from his tongue before he choked on it.

“Wow. That’s attractive.”

Nate’s lip curled with disgust, but at least his airway was clear. “Wh-here’s… P-ipher?”

“Hey, she’s _fine_.” They insisted again, tilting their head. “She went to find help, about an hour ago… A lot of caravans move through here, so she’ll probably be back soon.”

With an unpleasant scowl, Nate made his skepticism known.

“Look, I get it, _stranger danger._ You got no reason to trust me. But seeing as how you’re not going anywhere…” The man offered open palms, “Let’s work together a bit, for both our sakes, alright? Paul Stokes. Scavver extraordinaire. I’m the one that got you and your friend out of hot water when the cards on the table read ‘D-E-A-D’ in big neon letters.”

That was way too many idioms for Nate to keep up with through the fog in his brain. There was a very real chance the stranger was lying. He might suspect Nate would be more amenable if Piper’s safety were assured. And of course, that would be true. Nate considered his options, and then offered hoarsely, “Ser _geant_ N-ate _Ro_ nan.”

“Military man, hunh? Yeah, I figured.”

Funny. Since as far as Nate could tell, there hadn’t been a military in the Commonwealth for nearly two centuries. A vigilant calculation overshadowed Paul’s every motion and utterance. Which was also funny. Since low ranking scavvers tended to be jet-sucking lunatics more hungry for caps and chems than… ideals. Vultures didn’t make a habit of sparing fresh meat.

Nate could be sure of only one thing: Paul was no raider. But that wasn’t necessarily a comfort.

“Word of advice?” Paul volunteered. “In the future, don’t go falling into pits with Deathclaws at the bottom. You’ll live longer.”

Nate blinked flatly. “ _Thanks._ ”

“No problem. Now… Don’t suppose you know your blood type, do you? You’re looking a little on undead side.”

Like Piper, Nate considered the box of medicine critically as Paul rifled through it. “O… _negative._ ”

“Ouch. Okay, well. The corpse look is good for you, actually-”

“ _Wh_ at do you, want?”

“...What do I _want?_ ” Paul parroted. “Well, I won’t say nothing. But nothing right now - not from you or your nosy friend.” A faintly off-key note bled into his tone. The quiver of buried grief. If the sensation hadn’t been so familiar, Nate wouldn’t have even noticed it.

Paul busied himself with the pitiful tin can fire he’d been stoking earlier. “I took a gamble, and I’m hoping it pays off down the line. Only time will tell.” The end of his sentence drifted into a lilt.

Hardly an answer, but at least it didn’t ring of the earlier dishonesty. Nate blinked slowly. It was more of a wince. “Helluva _gamble._ ”

“Look, what I can say is this - I’m an ally. No tricks.”

A brief silence hovered over them. Piper still wasn’t back yet.

“... How did… we-?” Nate’s chest constricted and he instinctively tried to reach his hand up, only for ribbons of electric pain to pulse through his bandaged arm. His face contorted sharply. _Damnit!_

“Get out?” Paul guessed, tension in his shoulders betraying his unease.  

Nate nodded with a grunt as his nerves exploded, tipping precariously to the side. Nausea pooled in his belly like radiation leakage and he gargled breathlessly.

Paul had to prop him up again. “Please stop doing that. It’s giving me anxiety.”

Wincing, Nate used his good hand to make a weak _O.K._ symbol and focused once more on breathing through his tattered ribs.

Paul sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “You passed out. Killed the lizard, though - that was pretty badass. Was the shotgun a lucky guess? I didn’t think you got my message. Don’t answer that.”

 _The spectator_. Nate blinked. Paul’d had hair then. A lot of it. Just one more bewilderment to add to the pile.

“Anyway, your reporter friend tried to negotiate. I admit, I thought she had a chance. But I guess Slugs was none too happy about losing her pet monster. Put her in a more mercurial mood than she already generally was.” Paul laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah. They woulda left you for mutt kibble and  Piper would’ve wished for an end so painless. It was never my plan to stick around there longer than I had to, so… saving you two was just the excuse I needed. Rigged a few creatively placed explosives, then when the time was right… _boom._ Distraction.” Paul made a vaguely atomic-cloudlike shape with his hands, “And don’t worry, none of ‘em will be following us. Left a few surprises behind that’ll keep Slugs trying to restore order for at least until dawn. We’ll be out of here well before then, one way or another.”

“I… thanks.” Nate managed, and this time he meant it.

“Repay me by living, okay?”

Quiet settled over the makeshift camp, save the faint crackle of Paul’s tin can fire. Nate kept his gaze firmly on the horizon, trying his best to ignore the throbbing as he scanned for any silhouette against the black. His vision was blurry and focus was difficult, but he had to keep watching. Until Piper came back. Paul was watching the horizon, too - if not more covertly.

 

Hours passed before a shape finally appeared over the rise, dimly visible by starlight. But her gait, the tilt of her shoulders, the ripples in her coat? Nate would recognize those anywhere. His immediate reaction was frustration, because she hadn’t followed the military crest of the hill and a sniper could easily pick her off from any direction in a half mile radius.

And on its heels came relief so intense his tears burned up like acid against Nate’s tired eyes. He passed out again.

Only briefly. When he came to, Piper was crossing the threshold of the garage, followed by two strangers. It was hard, but Nate managed to smile for her.

Piper’s own relief manifested in a violent shudder and a breathy laugh, _“Thank God.”_ She crashed to one knee beside him, holding a hand to her mouth with fingers that curled and uncurled anxiously. “You’ve sure got a flair for the melodrama, Blue.”

He started to make a retort and then wheezed with a wet choking sound.

The caravan medic pushed Piper aside hastily, taking in Nate’s wounds with owly eyes far too big for her head. She was white as a sheet. Whiter than Nate. “Oh my God. Oh God. Okay. Shit. God. How are you even-? Alive?”

“B _-ad_ luck.” He croaked back with a wan smile. He glanced at Piper in expectation of a return smirk, but instead she only stared. Subdued - worried. An uncomfortable queasiness rippled through his gut and he looked away again.

The medic inspected him with little regard for personal boundaries. “Well, the worst of the bleeding’s stopped. _Jesus._ You told me it was bad Miss, but that arm, it’s…” Their grim expression set his teeth on edge.

“You _can_ fix it, can’t you?” Piper breathed.

“It’ll be a stop-gap at best. Did you do this stitching?”

“No, it was…” She glanced around the garage, perplexion overtaking her features. Nate looked too, more gingerly. Paul Stokes had vanished. “Blue, was someone with you?”

“Paul.” He croaked.

Piper’s brows furrowed sharply. _“Paul…?_ You mean _Ansel?_ Middle-aged guy, fake hair, sunshades?” She mimed each description.

Nate grimaced with confusion, “Paul. …Bald, but - yeah.”

The caravanner interrupted to insist Nate stop talking. A repetitive order he was struggling to make peace with. “Whoever it was,” She hummed a sour note, “knew what they were doing. They saved your life, mister. Or at least bought you some time. But that arm... If gangrene sets in? Or a clot? There won’t be thing I can do.” She glanced back at the second stranger, a muscular man holding a pipe rifle. The bodyguard, presumably. He surveyed Nate the way you might a fresh corpse. “Six hours, give or take, before he starts getting _really_ sick.”

“J _ust_ … chop it off.” Nate supplied unhelpfully. His head was spinning. “Giveme a - hook claw. I’ll be a pirate. Aarg...”

The medic wasn’t amused. But Piper smirked indulgently, and the knot in his gut unwound a little.

 

* * *

 

Light was brimming against the horizon by the time they finally left the collapsed garage. The medic - who he later learned was actually a _vet_ , re-splinted his shattered arm, stuffed him full of antibiotics to rival grandma’s Thanksgiving turkey, and prescribed immediate need for a surgery center. She made repetitive note of how unreasonable Nate’s continued vigor was and applauded the efforts of Paul - Ansel, _whoever_.

Through luck or providence, her troupe was on its way to Diamond City. For a few caps and the promise to put in a good word with Myrna, they agreed to drag Nate behind one of the pack brahmin on a makeshift cot.

It was bumpy, and every crack in the concrete felt like having the deathclaw rip into him all over again. Piper didn’t leave his side.

“You know this one time, a pair of Super Mutants chased me into Berklee College off Boylston street-” She talked most of the way back. She told him stories. They helped. It was a welcome distraction from the pain, and more than that he could tell she was nervous by the way her mouth ran away with her. He suspected Piper’s gabbing was as much comfort for her own self as his.

“...Who do you think he was?” She asked suddenly.

There was no need to elaborate. Nate grimaced. “A good Samaritan?”

She scoffed, “He said the _same_ damn thing.

Nate smiled, but his brow furrowed. There was a lot he would’ve liked to know, and probably never would. “He was… honest where it mattered.” Nate blinked, and amended: “I think.”

“Psh, and that’s enough for you? The way he showed up - and disappeared, like some kinda ghost… ”

“I kinda - like it. Feels like... having a guardian angel.” Another bump in the road jarred his teeth into his skullcap. Stars flashed across his field of view. His gratefulness decreased marginally.

Piper scrunched her nose, “If he’s such a saint, why’d he run? And why lie about his name twice, as if the both of us wouldn’t put it together?” She pulled out her notebook and started scribbling furiously. “I’m telling you, there’s something off about the whole thing. What was he even doing there in the first place?”

Nate didn’t have an answer to that, so he just nodded. The motion was lost in the jostling of the brahmin’s weighted steps.

As they reached the outer rim of Diamond City’s patrol routes, one of the guards went ahead at their vet’s behest to inform the doctor. Truth be told, Nate was starting to feel more than a little lightheaded and didn’t protest the fuss.

Sun met them just outside the stadium with a stretcher and a handful of choice words Nate was pretty sure weren’t English before rushing him inside. From the shadows behind Danny’s post, just out of sight, a second guard wearing browlines and thick black hair was watching when they crossed the city gates. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT WAS HOW Nate Ronan met Deacon x'D Thanks so much for reading! <3


End file.
